kill_the_lightsfandomcom-20200215-history
How to Survive Your Fifteen Minutes of Fame/Chapter Two
Chapter Two: Trash TV Talk “Oh, I got a pair of socks! And here’re some chocolates, and a candle, and a cookbook, and a sweater!” Chris pulled item after item from the gift bag that Opal Winfrey had given him, a look of amazement on his face. Failing to notice that the camera was on him, he stuck his head in the little bag. “Is there a black hole in here or something? How much stuff did she give me?” He flipped the bag over and another dozen trinkets fell out. A cameraman cleared his throat. “Um, Mr. McLean? We’re rolling.” The host looked up at the camera and then hid the bag behind his back. “Welcome back to Total Drama Island: For Your Entertainment!” He exclaimed as several of the goodies fell on the ground behind him. “During the break, the twenty-two contestants were all randomly assigned to one of our four horrible hostesses. We’re supposed to be starting with an interview with Monique, but Tina Blanks ran into the bathroom twenty minutes ago to try to glue an extension back to her head and hasn’t been seen since.” “Ooh, she is going to be ticked if she finds out you told the world that happened.” Monique commented from the other side of the curtain. The camera view switched from the backstage area to the main stage, where Monique was drumming her fingers against her thigh. Two of the hostess’s spinning chairs had been pushed aside, and the pair that remained was set up in the center of the stage, the left one containing the bored Monique and the right one empty. There was a coffee table between the chairs, and the elevated television monitor that was set up behind it displayed an animated logo of Tina Blanks’ name. “How is she not back yet?” Monique whined. “Can somebody go check to make sure she didn’t flush herself down the toilet?” “Hold your horses, beauty like this takes time!” Tina Blanks emerged from behind the curtain and positioned herself into Ferocious Pose Number One-Thirty-Six from her endless posing repertoire. When the audience clapped for her, Tina strutted over to take a seat in the empty chair and picked up a set of notecards from the table. “Let’s put fifteen minutes on the clock.” “It’s about time.” Monique adjusted her position to something more professional. The image on the screen behind the two ladies changed to a timer, and a high-pitched beep signaled the start of the interview. “Hello, ladies and gentleman, I’m Tina Blanks.” The supermodel narrowed her eyes at the camera and arched her brows, resulting in a catlike look. “Today I’ll be chatting with Monique Darling, one of the contestants on the new season of Total Drama. Now, Monique, can I just say that you’re looking absolutely ferocious right now?” “Thanks, Tina.” Monique replied, angling her body a bit more towards the audience to give them a full view of her clothing. “I actually designed and constructed every part this outfit myself. The only things that I bought were the shoes, but I set the rhinestones in them by hand to make them one of a kind.” “Well, I’m definitely a fan.” Tina complimented. “So, all that the audience knows about you so far is that you’ve made it on the show and are competing for The Emmys team. Why don’t you tell them a little bit more about yourself?” “I’d love to, Tina.” Monique replied, her tone suggesting that this was one of her favorite subjects. “I live in Manhattan and have always been obsessed with fashion, whether it was on the street or in a display window. After trying on countless outfits, I realized that I wanted something better. I sketched out my own designs, and my parents bought me a sewing machine so I could bring my fashions to life. After getting featured on some prominent fashion blogs for my street style, I started to sell my custom fashions online on The Darling Collection website.” “It’s nice to have new faces in the fashion world.” Tina stated, though her expression said otherwise. “Well, thank you, I-” Monique stopped talking when she saw Tina Blanks yawn, and the designer’s professional grin was replaced with a scowl. “Do you have a problem with me?” “Oh, it’s just a small thing.” A smirk crawled across Tina’s lips. “Don’t you think you’re a little short to be in the fashion industry?” “I don’t think you heard me correctly. I want to be a designer, not a model.” Tina crossed her arms over her chest. “My point still stands.” “I don’t see what my height has to do with anything.” “Honey, I know you’re just an amateur, but tall girls are confident girls, and confidence equals success.” Tina preached. “You’re going to make it nowhere in this industry if you’re under five foot nine. The only thing that’s worse than being short is if you were plus-sized.” “Ex''cuse'' me?” Monique got to her feet, though she was still at eye level with the sitting Tina. “You better take that back, because if there’s one thing that I am it’s confident! My height doesn’t mean crap!” “Why do you wear heels then?” “Because they look good!” “No, I think it’s because they make you look taller.” Tina flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Trust me, honey, I know. I help girls get in touch with their flaws on every season of America’s Future Beauty Queen. And while we’re on the topic of image, I think you could use a makeover.” Monique had been preparing to lunge at the supermodel but froze in place. “You wouldn’t dare.” “I can see it now: I’ll bleach your brows, dye your hair red, and get some frizzy weave tracks in there. Now that’s high fashion.” Tina snapped her fingers over her head. “Come on in, boys!” A few men stepped onstage wielding scissors and hairspray, and Monique backed away from them. “No, no, no!” She hit the edge of her chair and fell back into it. “Don’t touch me!” Realizing that the makeover men had cornered her in her seat, Monique protectively put her hands over her eyes and hair. As soon as her face was covered, she heard the sound of a buzzer split through the air. The designer peeked through her fingers to see that the makeover men had retreated and Tina Blanks was laughing. Monique uncovered her face to point an accusing finger at the supermodel. “You knew that would scare me! You were just trying to get the audience to eliminate me.” Tina casually examined her nails. “Well, that and I wanted to knock you down a few pegs and show how confident you really are.” “I hate you Hollywood types.” Monique huffed. “Wait until you see how shallow most designers are!” Tina called after the fashionista as she stomped offstage. When Monique reached the circle of contestants waiting backstage, some of her teammates tried to console her, though she marched right past them. Confession Cam Monique: “I should’ve known she was kidding, but Tina actually does give out terrible makeovers to teach the girls on her show a lesson!” The designer crossed her arms over her chest. “I was so confident going out there, but that bitch completely blindsided me. It was just the first challenge, though. Now that I have a feel for the competition, I’ll show you that big attitudes come in small packages … well, after I make sure my interview didn’t put me up for elimination.” “So … what exactly are you wearing?” “I could ask you the same thing. That scrap of fabric that you have on leaves nothing to the imagination.” Tina Blanks glanced up at the timer and sighed. “Do I really have to sit with this fashion disaster for five more minutes?” Allison gave a satisfied smirk from her position in the other chair. After seeing Tina Blanks tear Monique apart, the scarlet-haired girl knew what to expect and was able to handle the first two-thirds of her interview with ease. Rather than let the supermodel’s insults affect her, the clever daredevil turned them around and shot them right back at Tina. This had frustrated the hostess, but the audience was entertained by the back-and-forth rally. “I don’t know if you got the memo,” Tina Blanks attempted to start another insult, though defeat was evident in her voice, “but when most people dye their hair, they want it to look natural. Fire truck red with bad roots isn’t exactly making the cut.” “At least my hair is real.” Allison snapped back. “How many cats did you have to shave to make that weave?” “How many permanent markers did you go through while applying your makeup?” “How many ribs did you break trying to get into that dress?” Tina’s jaw dropped. “Oh no you didn’t! You can say whatever you want about my hair, my style, and my show, but by picking on my weight you’ve crossed the line!” The scandalized supermodel self-consciously tugged at her dress. “Now I’m only going to eat three apple slices for dinner instead of four!” Allison shrugged. “I’m sure that’ll be better than whatever gruel my teammates cook up.” “I can tell by your thunder thighs that you have no concern for your look, but do you know how much work I put in to keep my model’s physique?! It takes constant scheduling, constant monitoring, constant self-awareness …” Tina Blanks continued listing the features of her daily routine, Allison occasionally nodding to make the supermodel think that she was listening. Eventually, the timer went down to zero and a bell chimed. “Was that the sound of my heart breaking over Tina’s sob story?” Allison remarked dryly. “Not even close!” Chris McLean replied over a loudspeaker. “That bell signaled the end of the fifteen minute period and a point for The Oscars!” “''What?!” Tina Blanks shrieked. The audience applauded Allison as she stood up and took a dramatic bow, and the timer on the screen behind her switched over to display the score, one to zero in favor of The Oscars. The daredevil exited stage right, and Victor stole the spotlight by dramatic pushing through the curtain. The actor held his head high and gave the audience a flourished wave, playing up the dramatics for his potential fans. “Thank you, thank you!” Victor blew a kiss to the front row before sitting down in his chair, starting the timer. “I am nothing without a captivated audience!” “Right now they look a lot more ‘held captive’ than captivated.” Tina Blanks remarked with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, Tina, I’m a seasoned professional and could entertain an audience with both hands tied behind my back.” Victor bragged. “By the end of this interview, they’ll want fifteen ''more minutes with me.” Tina already looked ready to kick the actor off the stage, but she had a job to do and picked up her index cards. “Okay, so you are-” “Victor Phae, experienced actor and hopeless romantic, at your service.” The brunet introduced himself. “And you’re playing for The Emmys.” Tina Blanks’ eye twitched at being interrupted and upstaged. “So, Mister ‘Hopeless Romantic,’ I’m sure some your ‘captivated audience’ would like to know what type of girl catches your eye.” Victor made a humming noise in his throat as he scanned the audience, putting his finger to his chin in thought. After a minute of this, Tina Blanks loudly cleared her throat and glanced at the timer. Eventually, Victor got to his feet and hopped off the stage, finger pointed upwards in a drama “Eureka!” pose. The supermodel watched as the actor walked up the center aisle, giving no mind to any member of the audience until he reached the second to last row and outstretched his hand to an attractive blonde girl sitting in the third seat from the aisle. “Would you care to join me on the stage?” Victor offered. The girl giggled and took his hand, and the romantic guided her towards Tina. When they reached the stage, he motioned for her to sit in his chair and then knelt in front of her. “Beautiful golden hair, wonderful eyes, flawless skin … you have all the traits that I want in a girl, so you must be an angel sent to this earth just for me.” “How did you even see her back there past all these lights?” Tina Blanks asked, squinting and attempting to look out into the audience. Victor smiled triumphantly. “''Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.” '''Confession Cam' Victor: “After that little stunt, the audience was eating out of the palm of my hand. Everybody loves a bit of romance, so it would have been impossible for me not to get that point.” The Romeo brushed away a bit of hair that fell into his eyes. “I’m not saying that the girl I staged the connection with wasn’t my type, but I could just tell that she wasn’t The One.” Allison and Victor had each displayed their own brand of entertainment through their interviews, so the audience was eager to see what the next contestant had to offer. After finally being awakened from his unconscious state via a bucket of ice water, Josh lasted only ten seconds with Tina Blanks before he was overwhelmed by the cameras, the audience’s gaze, and the model’s presence and passed out again. The audience’s buzzers sounded when the farmer failed to get up, and two interns carried him offstage. The complete opposite situation occurred when it was Irina’s turn to sit in the chair. The moment the beautiful blonde stepped onstage, it was Tina who leapt from her seat in fright. “A Rostropovich!” She yelped. Irina gave her a confused look. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” “No, but I’ve met your succubus of a sister!” Tina Blanks clutched the ends of her hair. “She came onto my show and ripped out my weave, and then she stole my man! Please don’t hurt me, I’m not young enough to steal editorial jobs anymore!” The Russian was displeased with being associated with her sister’s antics again, but she put on a soothing voice and reached out to try to comfort the supermodel. “It’s okay, Renata and I are nothing alike. Just because she’s my sister doesn’t mean-” When the blonde’s hand touched Tina’s shoulder, the supermodel frantically jerked away. This action caused her chair to flip backwards, and the hostess lay sprawled on the floor in shock for a minute before curling up to hide herself from the younger model. “Please, just let me be! I’m too pretty to die!” Realizing that comforting Tina was a lost cause, Irina introduced herself and then conversed with the members of the audience for the duration of the fifteen minutes. Once the bell signaling the end of her time rang, Irina gave one last worried glance to Tina before leaving the stage. A minute later, Tina Blanks peeked over her chair to make sure that the blonde had left before she crawled behind the curtain. “Hello, everybody!” The audience members got to their feet when Opal Winfrey emerged from behind the curtain, one girl in the front row looking ready to faint in the powerful woman’s presence. Used to the attention, Opal shot the fans a smile before sitting in her chair. “Now that Tina's turn is over, I'll be running the show for a bit. I’m so excited to meet these wonderful young contestants! Let’s see who’s first.” A spotlight pointed at Wes when he walked out from the backstage area. The musician gave the audience a friendly wave before sitting in his chair to start the clock. “Welcome, Wes.” Opal greeted, outstretching her right hand. “Thank you.” The gangly teen shook Opal’s hand, his foot starting to bounce up and down on the floor with nerves. “I just can’t believe I’m actually sharing a stage with Opal Winfrey. I know Chris was trying to get some star power this season, but you’re an icon.” “Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m that important.” Opal waved a casual hand. “Besides, this interview is about you, not me, so why don’t you introduce yourself to the audience?” “Oh, sure!” Wes turned towards the nearest camera. “I’m Wes, and I’m this season’s token musician. My mom moves around to find work, so I’ve been moving from place to place ever since I was a kid. I’ve lived all over the United States … oh, and I spent a few months in a motel in Ontario before we had our papers checked and got booted out. I’ve kind of lived a weird life, but my music keeps me sane. I was a big fan of the first few seasons of the show, so when applications for another season opened I just had to get on it and win the million dollars.” “Wes, you seem like such a sweetheart.” Opal remarked. “With that and the musician thing, wouldn’t you say you’re a bit of a Trent 2.0?” “Not unless we’re talking about first season Trent.” Wes replied. “He was a pretty decent guy in Island even though he kind of just filled space, but he just wasn’t the same after that season. Selling out to the Drama Brothers and then breaking up with a girl by text are just not cool in my book. You don’t have to be a monster for money.” Opal had an almost motherly grin on her face. “If you were to win the money, what would you do with it?” “Buy my mom a house so she’ll stop moving around, and then use some to get my brother out of … well, let’s just say he’s not exactly in the best place right now. I’m not used to having a lot, so I don’t really know what I’d do with the rest. Maybe save it?” “Not a lot of young people today are so unselfish, so I applaud you for that.” Opal gave Wes a golf clap, a few members of the audience joining in shortly after. “I’m glad the show casted a boy who doesn’t want to blow the money on clubbing like many young adults today. I had figured that since you’re a musician you’d want to spend it for promotional reasons, but you put others before yourself, which is an admirable trait that a lot of people today seem to be lacking. I shouldn’t be surprised, though, since it seems to run in the family.” “Oh thank-” Wes paused when he processed the hostess’s final statement. “-Wait, what was that last part?” “You’re Wesley Winfrey.” Opal stated. “A last name like that isn’t a common one, and the fact that we’re both remarkable individuals just proves that we must be related.” “Um, I really doubt that.” The musician said. “I think somebody would’ve mentioned if I were related to you, or at the very least one of my uncles would’ve tried to con some cash from you.” Opal laughed. “Nonsense! Don’t you see the resemblance?” Wes gave a confused look to the plus-sized, dark-skinned, dark-haired hostess before glancing down at his own lanky and fair appearance. “Um … not really.” Confession Cam Wes: “I tried to change the topic, but Opal just kept going on and on and on about us being relate. I guess it was technically a good thing since it wasted most of the time and got me a point, but does she really think that she could be related to some skinny white boy? Everyone with the last name Jones or Smith isn’t related, so why would Winfrey be any different?” The next contestant to sit with Opal was Cara, though her interview didn’t fare any better than Wes’s. The nature lover shared her favorite hobbies, volunteering with environmental protection agencies and caring for her pets, and Opal broke out into an impassioned speech about the teenage generation needing role models like her. She ranted on that Cara would be a positive influence on young viewers, leaving Cara sitting in silence as the hostess talked through the remainder of the fifteen minutes. Risty was the next to take the stage, though her hair made a bigger impression on Opal than her personality. The athlete began to tell the audience her backstory, but Opal interrupted her by getting up to tug at her curls. Risty’s mane was then used as an example of results that came from using Opal’s favorite brand of shampoo for ethnic hair, even though the look on the athlete’s face said that she definitely didn’t use the product. Risty sat with her arms crossed and her lips pursed, clearly uncomfortable that she had been used for product placement, and when Opal finally gave her a chance to talk about herself, the bell chimed to signal the end of the interview. Ophelia had brought a set of paintings to display for the audience. Each piece depicted a fantastical human-plant hybrid, creating a series of people with flowers for faces, petals sprouting from their limbs, and vines wrapped around their legs. Opal was fascinated by the paintings, but their discussion inevitably led to the hostess proclaiming that artists like Ophelia were a rarity because schools were cutting the funding to their art programs. Unlike the other contestants, Ophelia didn’t stay quiet and instead joined in on the rant, which continued through the fifteen minutes. By the time Avery strutted onstage, it seemed as though the audience was too intimidated by Opal’s presence to end one of her guests’ interviews prematurely. The hazel-eyed Jersey girl, however, didn’t seem affected by the star power on the stage and sat down with her legs crossed, her hands folded, and a confident smile on her face. “Welcome onto the show.” Opal greeted, scanning her index cards. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to the audience?” “My pleasure, Opal.” Avery dramatically flipped her hair, an action that had been perfected through plenty of practice. “My name is Avery Dellcourte, and I’m a high school senior from New Jersey. One day I’ll be famous, which will hopefully be kick started when I win this show. I’m already a star at my school, as I’m the class president and head of the prom committee, yearbook staff, spirit squad, debate club-” “Oh, so you’re very involved with your school’s extracurricular activities?” Opal gave an approving nod. “It’s always great when somebody wants to be a part of an organization.” “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a ‘part of’ these organizations.” The drama queen corrected. “I’d say it’s more like I’m the only one that does anything for them. I only want what’s best for everyone, but I have a bit of a take charge personality, so when I see that a club needs improvement I step in and fix it. It’s just embarrassing to see a lackluster cheer squad or a disorganized pep rally committee, so I show up to meetings and make everything right.” Opal’s proud expression turned into a glare. “Don’t you think that’s a bit intrusive and selfish?” “If it were somebody else doing it then maybe.” Avery shrugged. “But it’s me, so it’s okay.” “Everybody, this is exactly what I have been talking about.” Opal turned to look at the audience. “This young woman is the perfect example of somebody who is in need of a good role model. She doesn’t realize that she is stealing positions from her classmates and is so blinded by a false sense of entitlement that she does not understand how selfish she is. If only Avery had an influence like Cara to replace her behavior with good deeds.” Avery’s jaw dropped. “I am doing good deeds!” “Faithful audience,” Opal continued, ignoring the brunette’s outburst, “I encourage you to press your buttons. An attitude like this does not deserve a point.” “Who gave you the authority to-” Avery’s protesting was interrupted by a loud buzz. “''Really?!'' Your opinions were swayed that ea – hey, get your hands off of me!” An intern had stepped onstage and grabbed Avery by the shoulders, escorting her off the stage despite how much the Jersey girl fought back. Confession Cam Avery: The olive-skinned brunette sneered as she did her best impression of Opal Winfrey. “’You’re such a bad influence. Maybe you should spend your day rolling in granola like Cara.’” She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell when that happens.” Back on the stage, Opal dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as Robert shared the story of his injury. Many of the fans had broken into tears, and a box of tissues was being passed around the audience, though the absentminded footballer remained calm as he relayed his tale. “I can barely remember it happening. One minute I’m being called out onto the field, and the next I’m waking up and a doctor is telling me I’ve been unconscious for five days.” Robert explained. “Somebody caught a video of the football hitting me in the head on their phone, but I can’t remember it happening even after watching it. I just remember opening my eyes and having my parents and my brothers and sisters and my girlfriend all waiting for me in that hospital room. It was a miracle they were all there, like they somehow knew I’d wake up right that moment.” Opal’s tears were now falling freely at the broad-shouldered teen’s words, but Robert continued his story. “They told me I had memory loss. I could remember most of my childhood, but every once in a while there’ll be a blank spot where I can’t remember anything. It’s my short-term memory that really got hurt. I was scouted for my dream university and was given a full scholarship, but my memory problems made my grades slip so low that I lost it. It really sucks knowing I’d missed out on my dream because of an accident, but I won’t give up hope.” “You’re so brave, Robert.” Opal Winfrey sniffled, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I haven’t heard a story like that from somebody so young in a long time.” “Thank you, Miss … um …” The fifteen minute bell rang before Robert could recall the hostess’s name. “Oh, that means I get a point, right?” “That’s right, Robbie!” The somber mood was broken when Helen D’Angelo danced onto the stage. “Move over, Opes, it’s my turn to show my stuff to the audience.” As an upbeat tune started to play, Opal gave the comedienne a disappointed shake of her head before walking offstage with Robert. Helen perched in the chair that Opal cleared out, pulling her own set of index cards from her pocket. “If these handy dandy cards can be trusted, then I have got a great show lined up for you guys! I’ll be meeting with a Boy Scout, a hotel heiress, a couch potato, a blabbermouth, and a boy genius!” The audience cheered, their moods instantly brightened by Helen’s presence. “Let’s get our Boy Scout out here! Come on over, Paul!” Another lively track started playing as Paul headed onstage. The do-gooder walked rather seriously over to Helen, though with the hostess’s encouragement he did an awkward jig before plopping in his chair. “That’s not at all what I thought my first impression for the audience would be like.” Paul commented. “Be glad you got to dance with me. You could be stuck with preachy Opal or Tina Blanks, who I’d say is one fry short of a value meal if you know what I mean.” The audience laughed at the joke, and Helen gave them a wink before pointing to her notecard. “Says here you’re Paul Adams, you’ve got black hair, green eyes, and you practically bleed red, white, and blue. Fun facts include that your first word was ‘America’ and you have a strange birthmark on your lower back in the shape of-” “I don’t think the audience wants to hear that!” Paul interjected. “How’s about we talk politics, or the outdoors, or something else that I know a lot about?” “Whoa!” Helen pointed at a line on her card. “It says here that you’ve been a Boy Scout for eleven years? Is that even possible?!" “I’m proud to say yes.” Paul gave her the Scouts’ three-fingered salute. “I’ll be finished up at the end of this year, though.” “Wanna hear some Boy Scout jokes?” Helen asked. Though Paul shook his head no, the audience overpowered him with a harmonized yes. “Okay, so there’s a Scout hiking in the park and he gets chased by a grizzly bear. He runs and runs and finally makes it to safety at the ranger’s station, but when he gets there is arrested. Why? It’s illegal to run through the park with a bear behind.” The audience erupted into laughter, but Paul grimaced. “That was kind of inappropriate.” “Not one for some PG-rated humor, are you?” The short haired hostess thought for a second. “How’s about this one: two Scouts are out camping. They set up their tent and fall asleep, and they wake up a few hours later. The first guy says, ‘Look at the sky and tell me what you see.’ The other guy says, ‘Stars,’ so the first asks, ‘What does that tell you?’ The second guy goes off on this long rant about astrology and astronomy and meteorology, but the other guy just smacks him on the back of the head. ‘You moron,’ he says, ‘it means somebody’s stolen our tent!’” The audience cracked up once again, but Paul just raised an eyebrow. “You have to realize how serious a situation like that can be. Depending on where you’re camping, the temperature at night can drop massively, and without a tent to protect you from the wind chill you could freeze. Plus, one time our tent was ripped apart by an animal while we were off fishing. We hunted all night for our belongings that were scattered across the forest.” Helen sighed. “Okay, okay, this one’s bound to make you laugh: what’s brown and sticky?” Paul sneered at what he predicted to be a vulgar punchline. “… A stick!” The audience waited in silence for the Boy Scout to react. To their surprise, Paul threw his head back in laughter. Confession Cam Paul: “Was the joke lame? Yeah, but it was the only one I thought was funny because it didn’t remind me of any traumatic camping adventures. When you’ve been scouting as long as I have, you’ve seen it all out in the woods.” When Paul’s interview ended, Elena took the stage. She shot daggers at Helen with her dark eyes, though the comedienne remained oblivious as she read the hotel heiress’s basic information from her card. The short-haired hostess asked about being a member of the Harks family, but Elena’s snappish answers eventually convinced her to question what her deal was. “It’s hard focusing on your questions when you’re so clearly checking me out.” The socialite sneered. Helen D’Angelo let out an awkward laugh. “What are you talking about?” Elena crossed her arms. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know which team you play for and it’s absolutely disgusting.” The normally perky hostess’s expression turned to confusion. “What I do in my personal life has nothing to do with her our interview. I’m just-” “How am I supposed to ignore something that’s right in front of me?!” Elena shouted. “Remember when you had Renata Rostropovich on your show and she splashed her water on you? Well, if I had a glass right now I’d throw it in your rug-munching face!” Before the heiress could insult the comedienne any farther, the audience hit their buzzers. A burly pair of interns seized Elena by the arms and carried her offstage, the socialite shouting a series of censored insults at the hostess. “Thank goodness.” Helen let out a sigh of relief as she switched notecards. “Hopefully another interview will lighten the mood. Please welcome Isaac to the stage!” Helen D’Angelo had predicted wrongly, as Isaac only dampened the already foul atmosphere. The square-jawed slacker had no interest in Helen’s questions and responded with a half-hearted “Yup,” “Nope,” or “I don’t know.” Realizing after a minute that this wasn’t just a game, the audience buzzed Isaac off the stage, and he left with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Minerva was up next, and she and Helen D’Angelo were a match made in friendship heaven. When the up-tempo entrance music began to play, the redhead broke into an excited dance routine, which the hostess joined in on despite not knowing any of the steps. When the pair finally sat down, they found many things in common and chatted avidly. The only obstacle that they ran into was that both females shared the trait of never shutting up, so they spent the entirety of the fifteen minute interview trying to talk over each other. Even after the bell chimed, Minerva and Helen babbled on until Chris was forced to get on the loudspeaker and interrupt their conversation. When Minerva finally left, Zack pushed through the curtain and walked onstage with a shoebox under his arm. “Oh, I’m so jealous if that’s your natural hair color.” The hostess commented, running a hand through her boy-short blonde hair. “You have nothing to worry about unless you consider bleach natural.” Zack replied, a mischievous smirk on his freckled face. “So you’re Zack Hill, amateur hacker and inventor?” The short boy shook his head in denial. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘amateur.’ I’m actually pretty handy with my tools.” He patted the lid of his shoe box. “I’ve brought along one of my inventions to show you.” With Helen’s permission, Zack placed the box on the ground and slid the lid off of it, removing what looked like an old video game remote from inside of it. He pressed a sequence of buttons and a blue light on the controller lit up, and a second later a green and black object launched itself from the shoe box. Helen shrieked as the contraption clamped onto an overhead light. “What is that?!” The hostess screeched as Zack moved a joystick to direct his creation to hop onto the television monitor behind her. “This is the Frogclaw 3.0, which I made from some scraps I found in my garage.” Zack pressed another button and the gizmo released itself from the screen, landing on the ground to allow Helen to get a closer look. The device seemed like it had at one point been a remote control car, though its wheels had been replaced with four long pieces of metal with hook-like appendages at the end. Protruding from the bottom of the gadget was a coiled spring with a flat piece attached to it. “So, what does it do?” Helen asked. “Other than scare the crap out of people, I mean.” “Well, as you can see, I’m a bit on the vertically challenged side. With this in mind, I created the Frogclaw to retrieve objects from heights well beyond even a taller person’s reach. The first two prototypes had a few … um, dangerous flaws, but this one works perfectly. For example, let’s just say I wanted to pull that rope that’s dangling from the rafters.” Zack pointed at a location directly above them and then began to play with his controller, maneuvering his gizmo until it was in line with the rope. “With some adjustments I get it lined up with its target, and then … it leaps!” The Frogclaw 3.0 sprung from the floor towards the ceiling, one of its hooked legs grabbing onto the rope that Zack was aiming for. The contraption dangled in the air, its grip tight on its target. “If that was a kite in a tree or some shoes thrown over a power line, it’d be down by now.” Zack insisted. “That rope seems to be tied to something else, so it’s not budging.” “Can you grab something else?” Helen asked with an excited smile. “Sure!” Zack fiddled with his remote and then pointed at a spotlight hanging from the opposite end of the stage. “I’m targeting that light now.” With a press of a button, the gadget leapt through the air and snagged onto its target. The audience cheered as Zack’s device hopped from location to location, the technophile basking in the applause until, in true Total Drama fashion, something went completely wrong. The Frogclaw 3.0 grabbed onto a rope that, unbeknownst to Zack, was attached to the curtain hanging above the stage. He had aimed the gizmo there thinking that it’d be a stable location, though the second it latched on the rope was pulled downward and ripped away from the curtain. Zack and Helen D’Angelo screeched as the heavy curtain fell on top of their heads, exposing the backstage area behind it. Before the audience could press their buttons in disapproval, the point bell rang. One of the lumps beneath the curtain shuffled around until it found an opening, and a pair of freckled arms burst from underneath their fabric prison to shoot two thumbs up at the audience. Confession Cam Zack: “That … was … awesome!” The inventor exclaimed. “That was completely unplanned but resulted in the best possible outcome! Not only did I make an impression, but I earned a point while doing it!” Chris McLean: The host sighed. “We’re not even done shooting the first episode and the set’s already falling apart. What happened to that increased budget we bragged about?” When the stage was deemed presentable enough for the remaining interviews, Rachel Claire emerged with a cup of coffee in her hands. She glanced up at the quick repair job and shook her head in disappointment. The red drape had been stapled to the wall and hung crookedly above her, pieces of the destroyed Frogclaw 3.0 tangled in it. “Seriously?” The curly-haired hostess groaned as she plopped into her chair. “I thought I was working on a well-funded reality show, not some elementary school talent contest.” She pulled a stack of index cards from between her breasts and gave them a quick once over. “Bring out my first contestant!” Angel strolled onstage and hopped into the seat across from the reporter to start the clock. Rachel Claire gave him one look before shuffling through her cards again, pursing her lips in frustration when she couldn’t find the right one. “Need some help?” Angel joked when the reporter looked down the front of her dress to see if she’d left a card in the makeshift pocket. “Nope, I’ve got it.” Rachel Claire plucked one more notecard from her dress. “Angel Dominguez, right? Skipping the lame bio, list three things you hate.” “Um, okay …” The Puerto Rican teen gave her a confused glance, but followed through anyway. “I can’t stand liars, my stepfather, and my stepsiblings.” “Ooh, Daddy issues, huh?” “I said step''father.” Angel repeated. "I definitely am not blood related to that man.” “Let me guess, you’re bitter that your stepsiblings get more attention than you?” Rachel Claire suggested. “Well, I used to be. But now I’ve found a hobby to keep myself busy.” “And that’d be?” Angel pulled his lighter from his pocket. “Burning things!” Rachel Claire yelped. “Oh god, who let an arsonist on this show?!” “It’s not arson!” The Latino protested. “It’s an art form. If you wouldn’t mind handing me one of your cards, I’ll show you-” “No way! I’ve seen how easily this stage can fall apart! One little spark and we’re all up in flames!” Rachel Claire waved a frantic arm at the audience. “Press your buttons already, will you?!” The audience was quick to obey, and Angel was buzzed off the stage before he could show off his “talent.” After Rachel Claire composed herself, Gabe was sent onstage, and the hostess and rich kid found a common interest in complaining about the show. They whined back and forth over Chris McLean’s selfishness, the overbearing fans, and the other obnoxious contestants, and though it was meant to be more of a venting session than a source of entertainment, the fans were amused by the pair’s witty remarks and let Gabe stay his whole fifteen minutes. Next up was Eric, who rambled on and on about himself and his accomplishments, most of which were probably imaginary. Whenever Rachel Claire asked him a question, the braggart dodged an answer and instead responded with an anecdote about his “swag.” The audience had heard enough when he claimed that he had “impressed all three of the Kartrashian sisters with his rock collection and got them to go to prom with him” and buzzed the jock offstage. Donna sat in the chair next and was completely disinterested with the interview. Rachel Claire was immediately thrown off by the small girl’s sharp tongue, as she easily threw any question that she didn’t want to answer right back at the hostess. The audience, on the other hand, was enjoying the verbal battle. “It says here that you didn’t even want to be on the show?” “Not at all. My parents actually sent in the application.” Donna explained. “I thought I’d intercepted my audition before it reached the producers, but apparently they made copies. Now that I’m here, I figure I’ll just play along.” “Sounds like you’ve got some issues with your family, but they must have an even bigger problem with you if they named you Belladonna.” The reporter retorted. “Do they want you to grow up to be a stripper or something?” “Actually, the name’s much more common with porn stars.” Donna rolled her eyes. “My parents are a pair of hippies who wanted to name me after a pretty sounding plant. They might as well have named me Poison Ivy.” Rachel Claire glared when the audience chuckled at the brunette’s retort. “Your most embarrassing moment?” “Sitting for an interview on a falling apart stage with some D-list has-been.” “Any deep dark secrets?” “I was born a male.” “Worst lie you’ve ever told?” “That I was born a male.” The hostess was desperate to get her to crack, though dry-witted Donna amused the audience right up to the fifteen minute mark. Next on the stage was Camille, whose cluelessness upon her arrival had definitely not been an act. When Rachel Claire asked her a question, she pondered over every word before giving an answer that was so lacking in substance that it might as well have come from a seven-year-old. The reporter was quickly annoyed by the aristocrat’s vague responses, though the audience found her too adorable to kick off the stage. '''Confession Cam' Camille: “I think I did well in the challenge today! I made it through my interview, and the audience seemed to like me! Miss Rachel didn’t seem too happy, though … or is it Miss Claire?” Rachel Claire: The hostess had to resist the urge to bang her head against the wall. “They don’t pay me enough to deal with these losers.” “It’s been a long day, everybody.” Rachel Claire said to the audience. “A long, long day … but you’ve made it to the last contestant. So just give one last round of applause to Sebastian!” The biracial contestant stepped onto the stage and casually sat in the chair, the clever grin on his face suggesting that he was ready to get the interview over with. “You’re my last guest, so could you just make it quick?” The blonde hostess requested, picking up an index card. “Here’s a little break down for the fans: you’re Sebastian Luse and you’re from Reno. You like girls, card games, and winning, and you claim that you never lose.” She placed her card back into the pile and gave Sebastian an accusing look. “Sounds to me like you’re a cheater.” “Ha. Like I need to cheat.” The dark-haired teen rolled his gray eyes. “Then how do you win so often?” “I have luck and strategy on my side.” Sebastian pulled a deck of cards from seemingly out of nowhere and fanned them out. “Allow me to show you. As cheesy as it sounds, pick a card, any card.” The hostess was unamused but played along just to get the interview over with. When she pulled a card from the deck, Sebastian did a dramatic card trick in the air to shuffle the deck again. “Now, pick another card.” Rachel did so. “Now show your cards to the camera, but don’t let me see them.” The reporter held up an ace of spades and an eight of diamonds for the camera. “I don’t really see what good this does.” “It wastes some time.” Sebastian responded, holding the deck out to her. “Now, slide your cards back into the deck one at a time.” When the hostess did as she was instructed, the charmer shuffled the deck once again, throwing a few tricks in to keep the audience interested. When he was satisfied, he drew the top two cards from the deck and displayed them to Rachel Claire. “Are these your cards?” The hostess stared at the ace of spades and the eight of diamonds. “What the – do that again!” Sebastian did as requested and started the trick over, the curly-haired reporter analyzing each of his movements. This time, he showboated even more while he shuffled the cards, which served both to confuse Rachel Claire and to waste more time. The hostess watched the deck intently as he shuffled it with one hand, failing to notice when Sebastian snatched her stack of notecards from the table. He tucked the index cards in his pocket before drawing a pair of playing cards from the deck. “Are these your cards?” Rachel Claire snapped her fingers. “Damn it! How did you do it?!” “Luck and strategy.” Sebastian repeated his earlier mantra as the bell rang. “Ugh, finally.” Rachel Claire grabbed her coffee and trudged offstage. “I don’t think I could take any more of these freaks.” Sebastian gave a wink to the audience before the red curtain dropped, putting his hand in his pocket to make sure that the stolen notecards were still there. Confession Cam Sebastian: “These cards are a goldmine of information on not only my teammates, but also my competition.” He flipped through the stack, skimming each of them. “It turns out the hostesses had information on not only the guests that they were interviewing, but all twenty-two contestants. To get far in this game, I’m going to need to establish a few connections with my teammates. These cards will make it easy to find weak links and potential alliance members so that when the competition gets serious, I’ll already be set up to win.” Twenty minutes later, the audience had exited the building and the equipment from the stage was put away. Tina Blanks, Helen D’Angelo, and Opal Winfrey each had a limousine pick them up, while Rachel Claire had headed in the direction of The Hotel. The twenty-two contestants had gathered in a circle to wait for the challenge results, using boxes, makeup chairs, and other props as seats. Zack was trying to repair his Frogclaw with a roll of duct tape he’d snagged during the curtain repair. Josh had finally regained consciousness and was conversing with Paul, who was trying to keep his mind off of the constantly observing cameras. Eventually, Chris stepped into the center of their circle. “Congrats on making it through your first challenge! Well, some of you made it. Now that the crazies are gone, we can tally up the points.” The host pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. “First off, The Oscars. Allison, Irina, Cara, Robert, Paul, and Camille all survived their interviews and earned your team a total of six out of eleven possible points.” “Woo-hoo! That’s over half!” Cara reached out to give Irina a high five. “As for The Emmys,” Chris continued, “you scored points from Victor, Wes, Risty, Ophelia, Minerva, Zack, Gabe, Donna, and Sebastian, which adds up to … nine points! You’re the clear winners!” The Emmys broke into cheers (except for Elena, who looked as displeased as always.) “You can head back to The Hotel, where Grand Master Chef will be waiting with your rooming assignments.” The eleven winning contestants headed out the back door, leaving the losers behind. Chris gave them a menacing smirk. “Guess who I’ll be seeing at the elimination ceremony!” The Oscars collectively groaned. By the time The Oscars filed into the elimination amphitheater, the sun had set and the stars were out. When they had viewed the area on the tour of the studios, none of them had imagined that they would be seated on those very bleachers that night. Chris stood behind a podium in a spotlight on the stage in front of them, a white sheet draped over the front of it. He adjusted the microphone and looked down at the eleven contestants with a solemn expression. “Welcome, Oscars, to the first Team’s Choice Awards.” He said. “I’m sure you’re eager to find out which one of you will be leaving the competition tonight … or better yet, how they’ll leave.” The host broke his serious façade with an eyebrow waggle. “We’ve already used some of our more creative ideas in the past seasons, and unfortunately the marshmallows or the Jumbo Jet won’t be making cameo appearances. Instead, we have something completely new for you guys.” Chris snapped his fingers and two interns rushed over to remove the white sheet, revealing twenty-two gold stars nailed to the front of the stage. Each star had a contestant’s name printed on it in either red for The Emmys or black for The Oscars. “Your star will stay on this stage as long as you’re in the game. If you’re voted off … well…” Chris pulled a sledgehammer out from under the podium. “Your star is shattered into a million tiny pieces and you have to walk down the Red Carpet of Shame. "Waiting at the end of the carpet will be a surprise that will change with the episode. This week’s surprise: a limo shared with Tina Blanks!” On cue, a limousine with an advertisement for America’s Future Beauty Queen printed on its side pulled up at the curb. “Just to warn you, she’s a bit angry because the interviews ran longer than planned. She had an emergency hair appointment scheduled to fix her extensions, but since we took so long she won’t be able to get into her salon for another couple months. Oops.” The contestants gasped as the door to the limo burst open and one of the model’s assistants bolted out of the car. He had scratches on his face, undoubtedly given to him by a set of perfectly manicured nails. From inside the limo, Tina Blanks let out an animalistic squeal. She slammed the door shut again, the sound loud enough to scare the birds out of the nearby trees. “So, are you ready to learn who’ll be stuck with that monster?” Chris chuckled. “You’ve already cast your votes by video in the confessional. If you receive a silver star,” He held up a small metal star that easily fit into the palm of his hand, “you’re safe. I’ll start off by calling out the people who won your team’s six points: Allison, Camille, Cara, Irina, Paul, and Robert, you’re all sticking around.” The host tossed a silver star to the six safe contestants. Five caught the symbols of safety, though Camille’s nailed her in the side of the head. “Next, we’ll have Angel,” The pyromaniac caught his star with ease. “Eric,” The jock tried to simulate a touchdown with his star, though one of its points ended up getting stuck in the bleacher. “And Avery.” The drama queen caught her star and then turned up her nose, offended that she was called so late in the pecking order. “That just leaves Josh and Isaac.” The pair of blond young men couldn’t be more opposite as they were faced with the risk of being sent home. Josh was wide-eyed and had his teeth clamped down on his lower lip, wringing his fingers in a nervous gesture. Isaac was slouched with his arms crossed, his expression as casual as it always was, clearly unbothered with the prospect of elimination. “You had two of the worst interviews of the night.” Chris said. “You each received quite a few votes from your teammates …” Confession Cam Irina: “I really hate to force someone to go home first, but Isaac didn’t even try. At least Josh has his stage fright as an excuse. What can Isaac blame? His laziness?” Angel: “No offense to Josh, but what are we going to do with a guy who’s camera shy on a reality show? We’re literally monitored twenty-four/seven, so working with him in any challenge will be a pain. He has to get my vote.” “The last silver star of the night goes to …” “Isaac.” The slacker caught his symbol of safety with a crooked smirk, causing the frightened farmer to hang his head. Josh eventually got enough courage to get up to walk the Red Carpet of Shame. “We were rooting for you, Josh!” Paul called after him. “If she comes at you with her nails, make sure you cover your eyes!” Allison advised. “There goes some of my eye candy …” Avery muttered. When the Texan eventually reached the door of the limousine, the window rolled down just enough to reveal Tina Blanks’ catlike eyes. “What do you want?” Josh opened his mouth to respond, but an approaching cameraman caused him to snap his jaw closed. “Ooh, silent and beautiful? Come on in!” The limo door opened, and Tina grabbed Josh by his overalls and yanked him inside. As the vehicle pulled away, the faint sound of the Southerner’s screams echoed through the air. “Death by supermodel.” Isaac mockingly saluted the departing limousine. “An honorable way to go.” “You said it, man.” Chris agreed, mimicking the troublemaker’s gesture before turning to the camera. “One down, twenty more eliminations to go before we have our winner. Trust me, guys, you haven’t seen anything yet. Will Josh ever be seen again? Will Rachel Claire hopefully give up on gossip mongering and leave the show alone? And what exciting challenge will the contestants face next? Find out next time on Total … Drama … Island: For Your Entertainment!” <<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>> Category:Chapters